Sorrows in Battalions
by Lirulin
Summary: Arathorn went riding against the orcs and he was slain by an orc arrow that pierced his eye: Just a few words, but for a young woman they meant the collapse of her whole world. This is Gilraen's story, her thoughts after a death that changed everything.


**Sorrows in Battalions**

_by Lirulin_

**Disclaimer:** Nothing in here is mine. Everything belongs to the great J.R.R.Tolkien. Not even the title is from me. It is from "Hamlet" and the whole quote is, "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." I thought it fit Gilraen really well.

I somehow started thinking about Gilraen and about the fact, that you don't get to know all that much about her. I wondered what her thoughts and feelings would be and how she might have reacted to Arathorn's death and so I wrote a story from her point of view.

* * *

**Imladris, Gwaeron****, Third Age 2944 **

I can barely believe that eleven years have already gone by. When I was young – so, really not all that long ago – time could not pass swiftly enough or sometimes seemed to stop, especially when I was willing it to go faster. The long wait before I finally reached my majority and then, a short while later, even counting the hours until I was finally wed to Arathorn.

But now, everything is different. The days blur into each other, they are all the same and no longer hold any special significance to me. Sometimes I do not even know which day of the week it is.

I know it is wrong to think like that, to be this indifferent, but somehow I cannot bring myself to care. I have lost the center of my life and with him the will to live, and I do not think there is anything I can do to recover it.

Even with my son being still here with me, I always have to make such a huge effort. I know that I am hurting him so much and it breaks my heart as well, but I cannot help it. It got a bit better over the long years, but I can still barely go to the Hall of Fire, prefering the solitude of my rooms; my thoughts wander a lot and I still have difficulties following a longer conversation.

Sometimes I detest these changes that took place in me. Arathorn always said I was a strong woman and could cope with everything. He was wrong.

Were I an elf, I would say I am fading, but this priviledge is not for me. I cannot sail west and forget all the pain and grief and heartache. I have to live on, because I could never take my own life and could never leave my son, even though our relationship is nearly broken. My pride is still as strong as it once was.

My thoughts start running in circles again and I seek something to distract them. I gaze out of the window over the peaceful valley still covered with a layer of thick snow.

It has brought no peace to my troubled soul.

I can now see Aragorn emerging from the woods, accompanied by Elladan and Elrohir. I believe they showed him how to find and identify different tracks in the snow.

He has grown up so fast. I did not notice it most of the time and now he is already a young man. I feel very guilty for neglecting him throughout the last years. I know that he would have needed me, but I felt like being incased in glass, lost in my own world, without connection to those around me.

I still feel like that.

I hope Lord Elrond has been able to give my son all the love he should have gotten from me.

A shout drifts up to my ears.

"Estel! You wait till I get my hands on you!"

I am still not used to the name Lord Elrond gave him, though I am glad he does not yet know about his heritage.

Estel – hope. For me, the name has an almost bitter taste. I do not think there is any hope left for me. I feel like an old woman, with nothing left to live or to fight for, though I am barely 36 years old – no age for a woman of my race ...

As I watch him down there, talking animatedly with his foster brothers, laughing, I cannot help thinking back to this terrible time eleven years ago. The older Aragorn gets, the more he becomes like his father. Not just in looks, but in manners as well. Sometimes it is like seeing Arathorn again, and then I always have to take my leave because it still brings tears to my eyes.

I remember it, as if it happened only yesterday ...

**

* * *

-Flashback-**

**Narwain****, Third Age 2933**

It had been a cold winter thus far, with an early snowfall in the middle of October. And now, towards the end of January, everyone was feeling nervous and agitated. The men were especially restless, because some heavy snowstorms had forced them to stay indoors for nigh on four weeks.

It was one of the first sunny days after our week-long confinement and I was just donning another jacket. It was still very windy, the breezes bitingly cold, but it looked so beautiful outside, everything coated in white and the sun glittering on the freshly fallen snow.

I wanted to take Aragorn out for a little bit, because it was the first winter he witnessed consciously and he simply loved the snow. Arathorn had agreed to accompany us, though I knew he would much rather do something with his men.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Arathorn went to answer it and I could hear a voice talking rapidly and excitedly. My husband said something in return, but I could not understand a word.

But only moments later, Arathorn entered the room again, with this glint in his eyes he always got when he was about to "go into the wild" once more.

"Gilraen, I have to leave immediately. The sons of Elrond have just arrived, bearing news of a band of orcs up in the Ettenmoors. I will meet with them and then we will depart with a small party to hunt the foul beasts down."

I should have known it. The winter had been long and hard and was bound to have driven all manner of fell creatures out of their hiding places.

I could understand that Arathorn was eager for some action after weeks of being idle, but somehow, as he grabbed his thick cloak and fastened his sword to his belt, a feeling of cold dread crept over me. I had to move over to him and lay a hand on his arm, to assure myself that he was still there.

"Arathorn, please promise me that you will be careful!"

He looked at me, confusion clearly written in his face.

"It is only a small band of orcs. We will be facing no trouble at all. You know that we have much experience in fighting those things, so you do not have to worry, my Love."

Of course I knew that they were all seasoned warriors, and with the sons of Lord Elrond present, there was even less to fear, but I could not help this strange feeling taking even stronger hold.

Alas, I was then distracted by Aragorn, who had to have noticed the sudden tension in the room and began wailing loudly. I comforted him and was thus unable to caution Arathorn again or to dwell on the feeling any longer.

And much too soon he was packed and ready to leave.

"Do not worry, Gilraen. This is something we have done hundreds of times. I do not think it will take us longer than one week and a half at most."

He ruffled Aragorn's hair, kissed me once and then left the house. Aragorn was watching the now closed door with big eyes.

"Where Ada going?"

How could I explain to my barely two-year-old son that his father was out to kill? Sure, the orcs were one of our worst enemies, but it was killing nonetheless ...

"Ada ... Ada is going away for a while, with his friends. You know how we could not leave the house for so long and now they ... they have to stretch their legs for a bit and see if everything is still in order."

I knew it was a poor explanation, but I could not think of anything better. To my relief, understanding flitted over his features.

"Like we going out? Playing in snow?"

I thought it best for him to believe that his father was just playing in the snow. He would learn the harsh truth soon enough. And anyway, Arathorn would be back very soon, right? So I just nodded.

"Yes, something like that, darling. And now let us get out. If you want to, we can try to build a snow-elf."

With a little shout of joy Aragorn raced out into the dazzling whiteness, I following at a slower pace, trying to ignore the now growing feeling of uneasiness.

888

The week passed by so dreadfully slow. Each day seemed to drag on forever and even Aragorn, who was demanding a lot of my attention, always searching for new ways to use snow – now his favourite toy – could not distract me from this sudden restlessness. If I had been able to, I would have followed Arathorn.

The house seemed so empty which I would never have thought possible with a little child filling the rooms with laughter and shouting. But this was how I felt and I could not understand why.

A darkness seemed to have taken hold of my heart, I was listening to every footstep passing by our door, could not concentrate on the simplest of tasks. It is a wonder I was able to care properly for my son.

Then came one day, exactly a week after Arathorn had left. I woke up in the early hours of the morning with a terrible feeling of panic nearly overwhelming me. I could not fathom what was wrong with me, everything was normal.

Then came the thought that a bit of my ancestor's foresight could have awoken in me and that perhaps the village was in danger of attack. I was wary throughout the whole day, but nothing out of the ordinary occured, no alarm was raised, nothing. But still the feeling intensified as the afternoon wore on.

I was just preparing dinner, when suddenly an icy-cold hand seemed to clasp around my heart and squeeze it. For a moment I could not breathe and had to steady myself on the counter lest I fall over. I had to have cried out as well because Aragorn appeared beside me, looking at me with fearful eyes.

"Nana! What wrong?"

The feeling diminished slowly and I managed a strained smile.

"It is nothing, darling. I was just startled by ... by a spider. Go play again for a bit, we will soon have dinner."

After he had left the kitchen to play in the next room, I had to sit down for a moment, breathing heavily. I did not understand what had just happened, had never experienced anything like it before. It had passed, but there was still this coldness in my heart.

It is strange, but never once did my thoughts then stray to Arathorn. Perhaps I had unconsciously forbidden them to wander down this path, not daring to connect these ominous feelings to my beloved husband. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to protect my soul as long as possible ...

Come next morning, I had almost convinced myself that my bout of hysteria – as I now called it – had resulted from the winter and from being cooped up in the house for too long. I tried to not think about it again, instead focusing my mind on preparing everything for Arathorn's return.

I was expecting him every day now and I wanted to clean the house, and probably decorate it a bit. Everything looked somehow gloomy ... But the days passed and he was still not back.

888

The second week was drawing to a close and I was beginning to worry. Had something happened to him? ...

But no! That was impossible. He was a brilliant fighter, the sons of Lord Elrond and some of our best men were with him. They probably only had to track the orcs further than they had anticipated ...

It happened in the early evening, on the 28th day of Narwain. Aragorn was already sleeping, tired out after a day of playing, and I was mending a tear in one of his jackets by the light of a candle.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Arathorn! That was my first thought. But ... strange ... I had not heard any footsteps crunching on the snow ...

I opened the door swiftly and was surprised to see one of Lord Elrond's sons outside, I did not know which one.

He looked weary, his cloak was torn and he had a bloody scratch on his cheek, and there was something else in his eyes, an emotion I could not identify, but that made my blood run cold.

"Good evening, Lady Gilraen."

I reminded myself not to forsake my manners now.

"Good evening, Lord ..." "Elladan", he provided. "... Lord Elladan. Please come inside. It is still so very cold. How may I help you?"

'Where is my husband?' was the question burning on the tip of my tounge as I led him to the soft armchairs beside the fire. But I did not ask it, instead bidding him to sit down and then fetching a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Perhaps one of the men had been hurt and Arathorn was now accompanying him to his home ... Perhaps he had sent Elladan on to tell me everything was alright ... My mind was clinging to these last threads of hope ...

At last I was sitting opposite the Elf Lord, who was now staring absent-mindedly into the fire. Somehow I did not dare interrupt his reverie, and at length he looked at me, pain and sorrow now clearly visible in his eyes.

"Mylady, I ... well, you know that we were hunting those orcs up in the Ettenmoors."

I just nodded. Of course I knew that, but still, where was Arathorn?

"Yes ... well ... it took us nearly a week until we finally sighted them. We counted about 20 of them and were confident to deal with them with little to no effort. Seven days ago we reached their camp and it had been our plan to spread out, surround them and then surprise them with a swift attack. But then ... then we were ambushed. The orcs must have somehow realised we were coming, I do not know how it happened. They were suddenly all around us and we were completely unprepared and ... Oh Mylady, I am so sorry, but ... Arathorn was slain."

And time stopped.

I barely registered the glass leaving my now numb fingers, shattering into a thousand pieces, red wine like blood spilling over the floor.

My mind was a blank, void of thought or emotion, except for one word, repeating itself ceaselessly: 'No!'

It was just one big joke. Arathorn would come through the door any minute, and then we would laugh about it together.

Slain? No, not Arathorn, not my husband! It was not possible. He was the best fighter I had ever seen, it was simply not possible!

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder and I heard a voice, seemingly coming from far away, only barely reaching me through the haze in my head.

"Mylady, please come back inside!"

Inside? But ... what? Only then did I notice that I was standing outside in the snow. I did not remember going to the door or opening it ...

I felt the cold wind on my face and it somehow woke me up. Everything came rushing back to me, my thoughts and emotions becoming one tangled mess, and I started struggling against the hands that wanted to guide me back inside.

"No! Let loose of me! I have to go to Arathorn! Where is he? He needs me!"

I wanted to break free and rush out, but the hands were insistently tugging me back.

"Mylady, please! You cannot ..."

But I hardly heard him, just wishing to go find my husband.

"No! Leave me alone! I have to go to him!"

With a last jolt he pulled me back inside and shut the door, but I was still trying to wrench myself from his grasp.

"Mylady, you cannot go to him! He is dead!"

Abruptly, all my strength left me and I went slack in his arms, the brutal word finally sinking in: Dead. It kept echoing in my head: dead, dead, dead.

And at last I understood the full implications: I could not go to him. He was not coming back, not ever, I would never see him again. Never see his eyes light up in joy, never hear his laughter over the latest of Aragorn's antics, never feel his arms around me again, holding me gently.

And then the tears came and I could do nothing to hold them back, it was just too much. I felt my heart breaking into a million little pieces and I sobbed uncontrollably against Lord Elladan's chest. He just held me and rubbed my back, obviously trying to soothe me. As if that could help me ...

Somewhere in my mind a thought took shape: I had to know the details, as terrible as they might be. But the only thing I managed to bring out between great, heaving sobs was, "How?"

Lord Elladan nevertheless knew what I meant. Perhaps he understood my need to learn about the last moments of my Arathorn ...

"It was an arrow, Mylady, straight in the eye. He still fought on for a while afterwards, killing quite a number of orcs, but in the end, the wound was too grievous. He died very hounourably, Lady Gilraen, and his last thoughts went out to you."

But this did not console me in the least, I just cried harder. What did it matter to me that he died with honour? I would have given everything to have him back at this moment, honour or not.

Dimly I wondered about the fact that Aragorn had not yet woken up, but was unable to concentrate on it further. I had to know more.

"And ... and then? Did you ... did you ... bring him back home with you?"

He slowly shook his head and now my legs could not support me any longer. I sank to the floor and continued sobbing into my hands.

"Mylady, I cannot tell you how much I regret being the harbinger of such dreadful news. A lot of us were hurt, we could not take Arathorn with us and support them at the same time, we had a lot of trouble even bringing them back to the village, with a lot of snow still blocking the paths. So loath as we were to do it, we had to bury Arathorn there. I am so sorry."

I could hardly believe my ears. Arathorn was lying buried somewhere in the Ettenmoors, in a place I would never be able to visit, and I was now even bereft of a chance to say good-bye to him.

I so desperately hoped that this was only a nightmare and I would awaken any moment, with Arathorn by my side. But it did not happen, and of course, in my heart I knew that everything was painfully real. And I just wanted to be left alone.

"Please go."

Elladan on the other hand was very reluctant to depart.

"Mylady, I do not think it is wise that ..."

But I was too devastated to listen to reason.

"No! I want to be alone. Please leave."

I do not know how long I sat on the floor after the door had closed behind him, staring unseeingly at a spot on the wall, tears still coursing down my cheeks. The only coherent thought I could form was: 'He is never coming back. You are all alone now.'

After a while, I managed to drag myself to the bedroom, where I then fell into a restless sleep, haunted by strange dreams.

888

I awoke early the next morning, and for one blissful moment thought everything to be normal. But then it came all speeding back to me, the last evening, the two weeks beforehand, always feeling this constant uneasiness, this one day where I had felt a cold hand squeezing my heart.

Now I understood all of it, that particular day must have been the moment when Arathorn ... when he ...

Tears welled up in my eyes anew and I could not – did not want to – do anything to stop them. In that instant I wished with all my heart to have died with him, to spare me this agony.

But then I was flung out of these thoughts by a little voice right next to me.

"Nana! Why crying?"

I looked up to see Aragorn standing beside my bed, eyes wide with fear and confusion. Guilt surged up in me. I had all but forgotten about my little son. I lifted him up onto my lap and wrapped my arms around him.

How was I to explain to him that his father was not coming back? The thought made me weep even harder. I could feel small hands on my face and his voice rising in something akin to panic.

"Nana! Why crying? Please not cry! Not cry! Aragorn help!"

I looked into his eyes, knowing that I would now take a big part of his innocence away.

"Aragorn, darling. Nana is crying, because Ada is not coming back."

I had to choke down a sob that threatened to escape my throat. I did not want to frighten him further. He looked at me, now more confused than ever.

"Why Ada not coming back?"

I had to hold onto my last shreds of self-control.

"Because ... he is dead, Aragorn. The Valar took him away from Arda."

He thought for a long moment, furrowing his brow.

"Valar want to play with Ada, too?"

He was still so young, so innocent. Why did this have to happen? Why?

"Yes, darling, something like that. They brought him to Valinor. Do you remember? We told you stories about it."

Of course I knew that Arathorn was not in Valinor. That place was for the elves alone. But I could not tell my son that no one knew for certain where the soul of his father had gone to. There were only vague rumours about the souls of men sailing out onto the Encircling Oceans ...

"And not coming back? Not ever?"

Now I could see a great sadness in his eyes, as if he was beginning to understand.

"No, he is not going to come back. We will not see him again."

Aragorn then started crying as well, perhaps not fully comprehending the concept of death, but somehow realizing that his father was gone forever.

After a long time of just holding him, I managed to get both of us out of bed and prepared breakfast. But I could not eat a bite and Aragorn seemed not to be hungry either, only pushing his food around on the plate.

I did not know what to do. I could not imagine how my life should – could – continue now. What was going to happen now? Should I organize some sort of ceremony for Arathorn? I found no answers, could come to no decision and was feeling so heavy and lethargic. I did not even notice the knock at the door until Aragorn tugged on my sleeve.

"Nana, door."

I was a bit surprised to see Lord Elladan standing in front of me once again. I would have thought he and his brother had already departed for their home. He looked very serious and I wondered detachedly what more ill news he could possibly bring.

"Lady Gilraen, I have to talk to you."

I led him over to the table where Aragorn was still playing morosely with his food. Lord Elladan briefly introduced himself and after a few words attempted to send him to the next room, but I placed him on my lap, holding him like a life-line. I did not want to start crying again and hoped that with my son there, I would stay grounded. Lord Elladan looked a bit disgruntled, but continued nonetheless.

"Lady Gilraen, I had a lengthy discussion with my brother last night and we came to the conclusion that ... I mean, we thought that ... Please believe me, we do not intend to patronise you, but we thought it best that you and your son accompany us to Imladris."

For a moment I sat dumbfounded. Where had that come from?

"What do you mean? Why? And for how long?"

He looked quite uncomfortable now and I reckoned there was more to it.

"Well, we think that it would be safer for you and Aragorn, were you at Imladris. He is the last of this particular lineage, you know what I mean, and there certainly are people who would do everything to see it die out completely."

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Was he implying that there were now, at this moment, people after my son's life? My first thought was to deny it roundabout. Was I not safe here, among my own people? But then, doubts started invading my mind.

There had always been those – even here in the village – who had spoken against Arathorn, his decisions and his right to be Chieftain of the Dúnedáin. They had of course never been able to accomplish anything because Arathorn had been too strong, but now that he was ...

Could it really be that Aragorn and I were in grave peril? It hurt to admit it, but it could very well be so. And I was also aware of the fact that I would not be able to defend myself and Aragorn on my own.

So, what was I to do? Should I accept this invitation? I knew I could trust the sons of Lord Elrond, they had been friends with Arathorn for a long time, not to speak of Lord Elrond himself, and Imladris had the reputation of being a save haven for everyone who needed protection.

And besides, were they not elves? Should they not know what was the right thing to do?

I felt so helpless in that moment, not fit to make any decision. Oh, how I wished Arathorn was here! He had always been so calm and secure. He would have known what to do ...

I was scared to leave everything I knew behind, because I realised that I would probably not come back. But on the other hand ... I did not want to put my little Aragorn in danger, and on top of that... everything I looked at reminded me of Arathorn. I did not know how long I would be able to bear it before breaking completely ...

An insistent finger poking me in the chest brought me back out of my reverie.

"Nana, we going away?"

Aragorn had to have gathered as much from Lord Elladan's speech, but certainly not understanding the talk about ancestry or lineage or people wishing him ill.

"I do not know, darling. Would you like to see Imladris, where Lord Elladan lives?"

He pondered this question for a while, intently studying Lord Elladan who just smiled at him. Finally he looked at me, a grin on his face.

"Yes! See Imadis. Travel like Ada!"

Tears threatened to overwhelm me once more, but somehow I was now able to come to a decision.

"Very well, we will do as you and your brother wish, Lord Elladan, and come with you to Imladris. When do you propose we leave?"

A look of great relief then swept over his features.

"I am glad, Mylady. I think we should go as soon as possible. Can you be ready by tomorrow morning?"

I nodded and after exchanging some more words about the route and means of travel, he left. I immediately started packing everything I wanted to take with me and in the evening I was ready to depart.

I did not know what lay before me or how my life would continue, but it could not be worse than what I was experiencing now.

How wrong I had been ...

Early in the next morning, even before the sun was rising in the east, we left. There was no time to hold even a small ceremony in memory of Arathorn and I had no chance to properly say good-bye. I took one last glance at the house where I had spent the happiest four years of my life, then we had to ride swiftly, for the way was long; tears were running freely down my cheeks.

888

Perhaps everything would have developed differently, had I not come to the house of Lord Elrond.

My pain was so great, was even increasing throughout the next few weeks, that I was somehow happy to hand responsibility for Aragorn over to Lord Elrond, even being relieved when he took him in as his foster-son and gave him a new name.

During those first weeks and months in Imladris, after the first shock of hearing about Arathorn's death had lessened, I was simply not able to care for Aragorn. I completely retreated into myself, not being able to be around others, often locking my door and crying for hours at a time.

Then, I still believed that it would become better after some time had passed, that I would get over Arathorn's death and move on with my life. But nothing became better, quite on the contrary, it only got worse.

I could not get out of my grief and sorrow, could not free myself from Arathorn's image, being constantly before my inner eye. No one was able to help me, not even Lord Elrond.

I had detached myself from everything, completely living in my own world of tears and pain, where no one could enter.

After some more months, I finally became aware of these disastrous changes in me, but by then, it was too late.

I was already estranged from my son, he was barely recognising me, did not remember his real name or his father, now calling Lord Elrond 'Ada'.

The realisation that I had not only lost my husband, but had also almost destroyed the relationship to my son, plunged me into a new darkness of mind.

And there I stayed, seeing everything I had done wrong, seeing my son grow up without the love of his mother, feeling more guilty with each passing day, but not being able to do anything about it. 'Being too weak', I always told myself. I could not become free ...

**-End Flashback-

* * *

**

**Gwaeron 2944**

I come out of my thoughts, back to the present.

I cannot see Aragorn anymore, he must have gone inside.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could have another chance, to make different decisions.

Would my life have taken another turn had I not come to Imladris eleven years ago? Would I have been able to move on had I been forced to care for Aragorn on my own? Would it have been different had the elves of Imladris confronted me in the first days after my arrival, instead of giving me a wide berth and leaving me alone?

Of course, I will never get an answer to those questions and it is futile even to think about them. But sometimes I cannot help wondering: What if ...

I cannot allow my thoughts to wander far down on this path, lest I fall into another depression.

888

There is a knock at my door and without turning away from the window, I bid the person outside to enter.

I hear footsteps, slightly muffled by the carpet, coming to a stand-still a good distance behind me, and I wonder who it is.

It cannot be Lord Elrond or one of his sons because I would not have heard them at all, and the other members of the household rarely come to my room. I am now more comfortable around people than perhaps six or seven years ago, but I am still not completely at ease, every conversation straining and tiring me after a time.

"Mother?"

Everything in me freezes up.

Aragorn!

What am I to do? I do not know how to react.

I turn around slowly, gazing at him. It must have been some weeks since I last spoke to him, I do not know very well, I cannot keep track of the days.

He is standing there, with his still wet boots, cheeks rosy from the cold outside, looking at me with a mixture of uncertainty, desperation and hope in his eyes.

I do not know what to say, every word seems empty and without meaning.

"Mother, I was in the woods with Elladan and Elrohir and they were showing me the tracks of different animals and we followed some and we found a little rabbit. It was pure white. You could hardly see it, but it was really tame, I could pet it ... And ... and we followed another one and there was a roe with her kid ... It was so wonderful to watch them ..."

I feel terrible. I know he is reaching out to me, trying to include me in his life, searching for the mother he needs and misses so much.

"Mother! ... Please ..."

He looks at me with pleading eyes, wishing me to say something, anything. And my heart breaks anew.

I know how much I hurt him, but I cannot free myself. Too much time has passed and I believe I am too weak now to even try. There is a solid and unbreakable wall of glass between us. I can see him, I can hear him, but I can probably never again reach him.

I feel tears burning behind my eyes and I turn away from him, looking back out of the window.

I hear a sound, it seems like a chocked down sob, then footsteps and the door closing.

Now I let the tears run and it feels as if I will never be able to stop crying.

What have I done? How could it come to this? This is not how I had planned my life.

Oh Aragorn! I am so sorry for leaving you alone and I still love you so very much, but I do not think it will ever again become possible for me to tell you this.

I look up to the sky, where the first stars are starting to twinkle in the twilight. And I pray to the Valar that you will be able to forgive me one day, my son.

**THE END

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Gwaeron – March

Narwain – January

So, I hope you liked the story. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought about it.


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